


There's a Tattoo and an Embarrassment

by mllelouise



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, M/M, Mention of alcohol, Pining, St. Patrick's Day, Stiles gets drunk and makes stupid choices, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:12:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mllelouise/pseuds/mllelouise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles celebrates Saint Patrick's day going out, drinking and making poor decisions. Though sometimes the bad decisions end up being the best.</p><p>beta'd by  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/laduchessederat">La Duchesse d'Erat</a>, all remaining mistakes are mine.</p><p> <a href="http://theladyandthewolves.tumblr.com/post/113880206523/theres-a-tattoo-and-an-embarrassment">Find it on tumblr</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	There's a Tattoo and an Embarrassment

“Is there a reason my name is on your butt?”

  
Stiles jolts awake to the accusing tone of Derek’s voice and draws the instant conclusion that

  1. he’s at the loft

  2. in Derek’s bed

  3. naked




“Uh,” he manages, eyes barely open, hands clutching to the (really soft) sheets with the vague intention of draping them around him and trying to save whatever’s left of his dignity.

 

“Stiles.” Derek repeats, apparently not amused.

“What?”

“Why do you have my name tattooed on your ass?”

Good question. Better question: why doesn’t Stiles remember having Derek’s name tattooed on his ass?

“Long story?” Stiles tries. He doesn’t even remember how long the story is, since half of last night is a blur, including how he got to Derek’s loft, but by the look on Derek’s face it’s obvious drunken amnesia will not be considered a good explanation. But he has the guy’s name written in indelible ink on quite a private part of his anatomy, so, fair enough.

 

“Maybe it’s just temporary, you know, like when we were kids, I had many dinosaurs on my arms back then so...” Stiles tries to look at the tattoo, untangling the sheet a little but from where he stands he can’t tell if the ink is real or fake. “Could you check if it’s real?”

“What do you expect me to do Stiles,” Derek deadpans, fisting his hands around the sleeves of his henley, “come and lick it to see if it sticks?”

Stiles gulps picturing Derek licking his butt and quickly searches for something else to focus on. Anything to avoid some totally natural yet inappropriate bodily reaction that would occur from thinking about Derek’s tongue travelling up and down his ass.

“I was, uh, thinking more like smelling it. From afar. Can’t you? Smell the ink?”

“What I smell is something you’re gonna regret for the rest of your life.”

“Well, that’s a familiar one,” Stiles sighs.

 

Stiles tries to gather the memories of how he ended up in this mess. He remembers

  1. going out to celebrate Saint Patrick’s day

  2. drinking

  3. a lot

  4. at some point being challenged to a drinking game and having to confess something

  5. mentioning Derek’s name

  6. a lot




 

“I’m gonna make some coffee while you get dressed and then I expect the whole story.”

 

Stiles tries his best to put the pieces together while getting dressed but most of it is still bits and pieces that could belong to any night out. Too much alcohol. Too many people in the crowd and none of them being Derek. Stiles remembers feeling lonely. Then feeling stupid about feeling lonely, since he was surrounded by friends. It wasn’t the first time he craved for Derek to be there with him, how did this particular night ended up that way?

 

He finds his phone in his jeans pocket, dead battery, and the receipt from the tattoo parlor. He could probably sue them for tattooing someone as drunk as he was. Wouldn’t erase the humiliation of having to face Derek though.

 

The tattoo itself is nice, he thinks, looking at it in the bathroom mirror. Small letters in some calligraphy font you choose to write poetry with. Or wedding invites- gosh he’s making this weirder if that’s even possible.

 

And there’s a - oh shit yes there’s a heart around the name, it’s so thin he didn’t notice it at first, two simple black lines forming both sides of the heart, ending in curves. At this point his only hope is that Derek didn’t notice that part. “As if it’d changed anything,” he sighs.

 

“So,” Stiles comes back to the living room, “seems like I got myself an everlasting version of your name there. That I don’t even remember doing.”

“The voicemail might help,” Derek grins and that doesn’t look good for Stiles.

“The what now?”

“Seems like you called me last night,” Derek puts his phone on the kitchen counter, “when you were getting the tattoo.”

“Oh dear god,” Stiles lays his head on the counter, wishing he could melt with it and disappear forever and avoid the upcoming embarrassment.

 

“Heyyyy Derek… you’re asleep why are you asleep you should be here with m- us, partying.” Stiles’ voice emphasises the “partying”, making impossible to miss his drunken state. “Anyway. I chose dare, because, you know, truth you never know what they’re gonna ask and I have so many secrets sometimes I can’t keep track and so. Dare. So I’m- I’ve been dared, is that a word? Been dared to get a tattoo and they all think I’m gonna chicken out but I’m not, I’m not scared, pff needles- who cares right? Here? I’m lying here? Okay.” Stiles seems to be settling wherever he’s gonna get tattooed. “I’ve been possessed- shush don’t tell anyone- I’ve been, yes, so I can do the tattoo thing.”

 

So apparently Stiles is still a teenager making stupid decisions through truth or dare. Some things never change. He’s so not ready to be an adult. The voicemail goes on and it gets worse.

 

“And Tony, he has the best shop ever you should see it, he said it should be meaningful and something important and you are, you know,” Stiles’ voice gets low and serious, “you’re my something important- you’re my person, Derek.” Someone calls Siles in the background but he doesn’t hang up. “Yes yessss you got it dude,” Stiles goes on, “this is gonna look perfect on my ass, just like Derek. Except he’s not on my ass. Which is sad because my life would be much _much_ better with Derek Hale on my ass. Or in it.” Stiles snorts and someone chuckles beside him.

 

“Maybe we’ve heard enough?” Stiles asks, mortified, cheeks probably bright red, hand going for Derek’s phone to put an end to the voicemail and his misery.

Derek grabs his wrist before he can do so.

“Or not, okay, let’s just, humiliate me even more.” Stiles’ heart tightens in his chest. He screwed up bigger than ever this time and Derek can keep his poker face on all he wants, Stiles knows things are ruined between them. “I was hoping we could pretend it never happened and get back to whatever.” Stiles tries to make a gesture to match his words but Derek is still holding his wrist. Which is strange. Derek is looking at Stiles the way you look at modern painting, intrigued and confused, knowing there’s a meaning in it somewhere, but where?

 

“Don’t worry if I pass out okay, needles, you know,” Stiles voice continues to ramble, “I trust you, dude.”

The call finally ends up with this and Stiles closes his eyes, waiting for whatever Derek has to say. This is so much worse than anything before.

 

“I should go now. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… I don’t know what I meant actually. Well not to throw my feelings at your face like that, that’s for sure.” Stiles’ throat is sore and the words hurt coming out. “I’ll just go and you won’t have to see my butt or face anytime soon, I promise. Then maybe one day we can laugh about it.” He tries a lighter tone and fails. “You could even use this to make fun of me for the rest of our lives.” Stiles would be okay with that, because when he thinks about it, a lifetime of Derek mocking his stupid drunk mistake is still better than a lifetime with no Derek at all.

 

“What if…” Derek takes a step toward Stiles, thumb stroking Stiles hand where he never let go of his wrist, “what if I do want to see that butt anytime soon?”

“What?” Stiles is puzzled. None of the scenarios he’d made involved Derek being cool and smiling. “You do?” How did he not see that coming?

“Just every morning,” he shrugs. “And evening. What if I wanted that?” Derek’s eyes won’t leave Stiles’.

“Well,” Stiles takes a deep breath, hopes it can steady his speeding heartbeats, “you would need to see the entirety of my body since it’s attached to said butt.”

“I might be fine with that,” Derek smiles and rest his forehead on Stiles’.

“My feelings are attached to it too. Strongly attached. Like, superglued. I don’t think I coul-”

Derek’s lips don’t let Stiles ramble any more, capturing his mouth softly, making Stiles whine. Derek pauses and Stiles lets out something between a sigh and a snort, before Derek kisses him again, longer, pressing his mouth deeper on Stiles’ lips.

 

“You’re still gonna mock my tattoo, aren’t you?”

“For the rest of our lives, yes.”

“Okay.”

To be honest, anything for the rest of their lives sounds like the perfect plan for Stiles.


End file.
